Six Times Felicity Uses Post-It Notes and One Time Oliver Does
by 27hope
Summary: Six times Felicity uses post-it notes to tell Oliver something and one time Oliver does. (Originally posted to tumblr and AO3.)


**A/N:** This fic was inspired by humansrsuperior on tumblr. She mentioned wanting to draw a Chibi of Oliver/Stephen with a post-it note on his head. That lead me to wanting to write a drabble and then I talked to anthfan and this monster was born. It was a blast to write and I hope you enjoy it!

As always, I love to hear what you think! :)

Humansrsuperior made the lovely chibi art that was inspired by this fic and is the cover art for it on here. All credit goes to her. :)

* * *

1.

It started innocently enough. One morning, she'd come into the Foundry to drop off a few things and set a series of scans into place when she saw him fast asleep on the couch in the corner.

Checking her watch, she knew he had at least another hour before he had to be at the office preparing for his meeting with the board of investors. Texting Digg, she let him know that Oliver was at the club and to give him an extra hour before coming and waking him.

They both knew he'd been pushing himself lately and that he need the rest.

Tapping a few keys on the computer, she set a soft alarm that would go off for the correct time and then started her searches.

The magic marker slid across the post-it note pad as she scribbled out a quick message, and then with a soft smile approached his slumbering form. With slow movements, knowing his usual ninja-like skills, she crept as close as possible.

She was surprised when he didn't so much as twitch. Then again, this wasn't the first time he'd slept around her or stayed asleep when she was in the vicinity.

Diggle had told her once that it showed how much trust he had in them - in her - to fall asleep with them near. After everything he'd been through, and really they only knew bits and pieces, it was huge for him to be able to get any kind of restful sleep at all without working his body into exhaustion.

Felicity had seen him do that enough times, and it almost looked as if he'd done that this time as well.

That familiar ache settled deep in her chest as she regarded him and she took the chance of reaching out and running her fingers over his forehead.

When he shifted, she froze, lines appearing in his forehead before he relaxed once more, turning his face into her touch, apparently his subconscious deciding she wasn't a threat.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she let her fingers smooth away the rest of the lines and then move over the slight stubble along his cheek.

A puff of air coasted along her hand and she felt the heat and desire that coursed through her. Desire to see him this relaxed and at ease all the time. Desire to wake to this every morning. Desire to feel his breath upon her skin in other places.

Desire for so many things that she found she could barely breathe. Her chest swelled and she released a shaky breath before pulling her hand away.

Plucking the post-it note from her other hand, she regarded him for a moment, before smiling as his nose wrinkled, an idea springing to mind. Just last week, she'd had a discussion with him about his forgetfulness when it came to his business meetings that she threatened to write them on his forehead.

With delicate fingers, she stuck the post-it note just below his hairline. With her smile growing and one last look, she slipped away and back up the stairs.

The heat and desire that touching him had produced along with the feel of his breath upon her skin didn't dissipate until she was at her computer in the office, and, even then, her eyes kept straying to his desk and the image of him sitting there looking back at her.

When he appeared an hour and a half later, he threw her a loaded look as he walked past her desk; one filled with so many emotions, she couldn't pull her eyes away if she wanted, despite the fact that Diggle was watching the entire display. The overarching emotion she saw in his beautiful blue eyes was gratitude and she managed to smile softly even though she could feel the blush on her cheeks.

After that, whenever she would find a bright yellow post-it on her computer screen when she stepped away asking her for a file or next to a steaming cup of coffee, she couldn't help way her lips tilted upward.

* * *

2.

It had been a rough night. Their target had gotten away because Roy still didn't have the tightest of lids on his anger.

Oliver stormed back into the lair railing at the younger man whose shoulders were slumped and she could see the regret in his eyes.

Oliver's words trailed off as he set his bow back in the case. She could see the angry line of his brow and the tightness in his jaw. Instead of coming straight to her and asking what she had gotten, he tore of his jacket and stalked to the bathroom to change, and she and Diggle shared a look.

Five minutes later, he returned, his shoulders still stiff, but with a slightly easier look on his face. His eyes cut across to Roy and then to her where she immediately saw the shift in his gaze, his eyes growing a shade softer as he made his way towards her.

"Did we get anything?" he asked, gruffer than normal, but it didn't phase her.

She shook her head, "Not anything substantial or that I hadn't already been able to pull from my searches. And by taking the back alley, he avoided any traffic cameras…we lost him."

His jaw ticked and he swiveled on the spot, barking out to Roy before she could say anything else.

To her surprise, Roy followed him to the training mats, Diggle watching with crossed arms as Oliver began running through the various exercises he used to help Roy learn to control his rage.

An hour passed, and behind her Felicity heard as Oliver became more and more agitated. He'd been working Roy hard, growling out orders left and right, his training that night taking a brutal turn.

She waited another fifteen minutes before she moved, and she felt Diggle's eyes on her, the bright green post-it sticking to her fingers.

When she got to the mats, she slipped off her heels as Roy moved to the other side to grab a towel, throwing a glare over his shoulder at the other man.

Oliver's eyes widened imperceptibly as she approached, but she didn't let him see the effect the heat of his gaze had on her. His blue eyes, dark from the rigor of his workout swept over her, lingering on the length of her legs that her new dress exposed. He froze when when she didn't stop at her normal distance.

Instead, she marched right up to him and lifted her hand, slapping the fluorescent note against the tanned skin of his pectoral muscle, just over his Bratva tattoo. She knew it wouldn't stick long on his sweat-slicked skin but she didn't care. His skin was hot to the touch as her fingertips brushed the damp flesh and she sucked in a breath, her cheeks flushing as she turned sharply and stalked back the other way, leaving him with her message.

_Stop being a giant green growly monster. Ease up on him. He knows he screwed up._

As she lowered herself back into her seat, her eyes caught Diggle's, his eyebrow quirked at her and the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

She pretended to get back to work, not sparing another glance in Oliver's direction.

A few minutes later when Oliver told Roy he was calling it a night and to go get cleaned up, she let the smile on her face grow.

The large hand that landed on her shoulder moments later startled her, and she craned her head up to find Oliver staring down at her. He held the note between his pointer and middle finger and the look he shared with her had her stomach flipping.

Giving her a nod, he slide his hand off her shoulder as he headed back to the mats and she heard the familiar clang of the salmon ladder.

* * *

3.

Felicity frowned as she glanced at the bottom of her computer screen. The time read half past four in the afternoon and Oliver had yet to come out of the office with the stack of paperwork she'd left with him to read over and sign.

She'd run a few errands, dropping off files a few floors below to accounting and then ran down to the IT department to make sure the servers that had been on the fritz earlier were back up and running properly. She may no longer work in IT, but she'd built half of them and knew the ins and outs of the system better than anyone. So when something happened, she still got a call, as hard as it was for her former supervisor to swallow.

When she'd returned, she'd seen Oliver on the phone, one hand rubbing over his forehead in the telltale sign of an impending headache. She'd grabbed a bottle of water, some ibuprofen from her desk drawer, and a stack of paperwork that needed his approval and signatures and pushed her way into his office.

His face had lightened when he saw her, and when she placed the water on the desk, holding out her hand with the pills, he'd smiled in appreciation. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced than normal and she saw the weariness in his gaze.

The last two nights had been long ones spent tracking down the person responsible for the hacking of the SCPD police records which they'd found out about from Quentin Lance. Turned out the Triad had ties to the operation which led to another confrontation between Oliver and the formidable group.

After slipping the pills into his hand, she'd left, returning to her desk and getting lost in typing up the final details from the Applied Sciences meeting that morning and working on code for a new program she hoped would help one of their projects.

On normal days, they left the office by five. Sometimes, she would ride over to the Foundry with Oliver and Diggle. Other times, she drove herself after stopping by her apartment to pick up something or for a change of clothes depending on the day's events.

When she peered through the glass wall that separated her office from his, she saw his chair turned to the side so he was looking out over the city. He had his arm propped up on the arm rest, his head leaning against his fingers as he was seemingly lost in thought.

As much as she didn't want to interrupt him, she knew that if he didn't get started on the stack of documents on his desk, she wouldn't get them down to the proper people by the end of the day.

Grabbing her tablet, she decided maybe he needed a break from the monotony of thinking about everything work related and brought up a few of the searches she'd been working on for the after-hours activities.

Pushing through the glass door, she began to talk, hoping that would pull him out of whatever world he'd gotten himself lost in - and usually when he was that focused on something it was the island; those five years where nothing good had happened.

"The searches haven't found anything definitive, but the Triad is definitely still up to something despite your meeting with them last night," she began, using the loosest term of the word 'meeting' for her purposes. "However, I did get a text from Lance earlier and he…"

Her words trailed off as she rounded his desk, two steps away from him when she looked up expecting to see blue eyes watching and listening to her expectantly. Instead, she was surprised to find Oliver fast asleep, his eyes closed as he rested his head against his propped up hand.

Quickly trailing off, she let out a soft breath as her chest tightened at the sight. He'd loosened his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt at some point; his suit jacket tossed over the back of the chair. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone and she found herself entranced by the slow rise and fall of his chest, her mind wandering to the skin beneath and the scars that told of trials and nightmares no one should have to experience, but he had. He'd survived so much, carried so much guilt and pain with him everyday and night that seeing him when he slept, he looked so much younger - so much lighter and carefree.

She didn't have the heart to wake him, and she knew he could technically sleep for another half an hour before Diggle would be there with the car.

The memory of finding him sleeping in the lair a month ago flashed through her mind and she couldn't stop the smile that grew on her lips as she recalled the way she'd left the post-it note on his forehead to find when he woke. It had surprised her when that had somehow become a way for them to communicate. But whenever she found a small square stuck to her computer screen or tablet or, in rare cases, her chair when she'd left her desk to run an errand, she couldn't help but feel a rush of something she didn't want to define deep inside her.

The post-it's almost seemed to bring out the playful side of him, despite the fact that she also used them when he was being the stubborn ass he sometimes could be after long days and nights. He seemed to respond to them, and her chest fluttered whenever she found one with his familiar blocky handwriting or she saw him smile at the ones that she'd left him.

Approaching his desk, she grabbed the pad of post-it notes she'd placed near his keyboard along with the pen he'd been using to sign the documents still sprawled open over his desk.

She quickly wrote out a note, and pulled it from the stack. Taking two soft steps, she was at his side and smoothed the note over the skin of his forehead.

Much like she had the first time she'd left him a note, she left her fingers drift down his temple to his jaw, tracing the sharp lines of his face. Her fingertips brushed down his neck to the collar of his shirt and smoothed down the fine linen. The heat of his skin soaked through the shirt and she felt the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her fingertips.

She was amazed that his breathing stayed even and he remained asleep, and before she made herself step back, she leaned down and brushed a kiss to his temple just to the left of the post-it.

As she began to retreat, the hand that was on his shirt, trailed over his shoulder and she was almost out of reach when she felt warm, calloused fingers close over hers, holding her in place.

The breath caught in her throat as her heart pounded against her rib-cage. Her eyes flicked back to him, but found that he still hadn't moved despite being awake.

His thumb brushed over her knuckles, once, twice, before giving them a squeeze and releasing them with a sigh.

He didn't say a word and neither did she. He didn't even move to take the small sticky note from his forehead. And after a few moments, she made herself leave.

Twisting, she turned to his desk and gathered the half-signed documents, piling them into a stack in her arms.

They could wait to be signed in the morning. She would send the necessary emails. None of them were things that were vital for the next business day, and if they complained, they would have to go through her before they got to him. A swift wave of protectiveness flew through her as she thought of his closed eyes, eyelashes brushing his cheeks as he slept.

This man gave so much to so many without anyone knowing. She could give him a respite from signing documents and reading too-long boring reports for a night.

With one last glance in his direction to find that his eyes were closed once again, she left his office and headed to her own desk.

Just before Diggle arrived, she ran to the bathroom. When she returned, she found a post-it note on her tablet.

_Thank you._

* * *

4.

The meeting with Walter about 3rd quarter projections at the bank had gone well. The bank would continue to back Oliver and Felicity could see the relief in his posture as he shook hands with Walter and they stepped out of his office.

"Always nice to see you again too, Ms. Smoak," Walter said, brushing a kiss across her cheek.

Felicity smiled and returned the sentiment before walking through the door Oliver was currently holding open for her.

His hand immediately fell to the small of her back and warmth flooded through her at the now familiar gesture.

As they made their way into the open lobby of the bank, shouts rang out and her steps faltered. Before she could react, two hands grabbed at her waist and yanked her away from Oliver as he yelled her name.

When she was turned, she found two men holding a visibly seething Oliver, his eyes flooded with worry as he looked at her. A gun was pressed into her side and she watched a larger man with a machine gun approach them, directing his gaze to Oliver.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he crowed, black ski mask hiding his features. "Oliver Queen…"

"What do we do with them, boss?" the man holding Felicity asked and she glanced furtively around them, noticing all the other employees and customer's huddled in a corner, another man arm with a machine gun watching them.

"We're not here for Queen, we're here for the money. Vaults almost empty, lock the men in it," he barked, "We need him to get into the deposit boxes," he added directing a nod to Walter.

As the men discussed their plan, Felicity was backed up against a nearby desk, Walter right next to her.

Without warning, Walter rattled off a series of numbers under his breath, and gave a Felicity a knowing look.

While the men were busy, she ducked behind Walter, fumbling around behind her back until she found the pad of post-its on the desk and quickly scribbled down the numbers that he'd said.

As she looked at them, she recognized them as the code to something.

The vault, she realized with sudden clarity.

Her hand fisted around the small slip of paper, careful not to crumple it too much as the men behind her barked. Hands were on her arms, pulling her away from Walter and she cried out at the strong grip the man had on her. She heard a low growl come from Oliver's direction, and her head lifted to see the men holding him having to struggle against his strength.

With pleading eyes, she told him to calm down, that she was okay.

He took two deep breaths, his eyes trailing over her, and she could almost feel the heat of his gaze on her skin.

Felicity saw the set of his jaw and knew he wanted to act; wanted to fight off the men holding him and take them out. But he couldn't. He had to be Oliver Queen, CEO, who didn't know how to fight, much less take out five heavily armed bank robbers by himself.

Felicity found herself being shoved forward as the men trailed past her on their way towards the vault. Just as Oliver was about to go by, she stumbled, pretending her heel got caught on the carpet. Nothing could have stopped him from ripping one arm free of the men's hold and grasping her waist to steady her.

A spiral of heat spiked through her as she pulled air into her lungs, her forehead resting against this lapel. Her free hand slid down her side until it tangled with his, pressing the scrap of paper into his fingers. His large hand closed around hers and tightened, sending a calming wave of reassurance through her until he was pulled violently away from her.

She could see the vein in his neck pulse at being shoved around but he fought his instinct to fight and she held his gaze as long as she could.

The pressure of hands on her back, pushing her forward pulled her gaze away from him as he disappeared around the corner. Her wrist protested and she bit back a cry when she landed on her hands and knees next to the other women, most of whom were workers based on their badges.

She knew Diggle who'd been waiting for them in the car would know something was wrong as they were now ten minutes late, but she also knew reaching for her phone would be a mistake.

Chaos erupted a few minutes later as the men in the ski masks headed for the doors. She heard the sirens in the distance and hoped SCPD weren't far.

Seconds later, shouts could be heard from the back and then Oliver was barreling towards her.

She was only on her knees when he reached her, firm, familiar hands pulled her up and into his arms as she grasped the lapels of his jacket. The stuttered breath he released against her neck made her realize his fear had matched her own.

"You okay?" he murmured, and she was suddenly very aware that they weren't alone.

Pulling her head back from where it rested in the crook of his neck, she nodded, releasing a shaky breath. "I'm okay."

He closed his eyes, his head bowing low, brushing against her own, and she watched as he pulled his emotions together, forcing the mask of Oliver Queen, CEO, back into place. She desperately wanted to reach up and curl her hand around his jaw, stroke her fingers over his stubble and comfort him, but knew she couldn't and that knowledge tore at something deep inside her. She hated having to hide her feelings for this man day in and day out, but knew that was how it had to be for now. When they were back in the foundry, away from prying eyes, she could comfort him more, offer him the shoulder she knew he needed. Now, she had to don her own mask as Executive Assistant and show the appropriate level of decorum.

When he stepped back and opened his eyes, his walls were back in place.

Police rushed in around them, and his hands fell from around her back, but one stayed at her elbow and she was thankful that he needed that connection just as much as she did.

When he pressed something into her hand, she looked down to see the yellow post-it note with the numbers she'd passed him earlier. "Thank you," he stated quietly, eyes speaking more than his words ever could.

She nodded, pocketing the scrap quickly as Digg approached them along with Lance.

Giving Digg a quick hug, her eyes never left Oliver's until his attention was demanded by Lance asking him a series of questions. But the look stayed with her long after he'd turned away, the familiar warmth and longing spreading through her and filling her heart as she tightly clasped the note in her fingers.

* * *

5.

She was late. All thanks to Isabel Rochev who'd decided to come parading through the executive level on a rampage while Oliver was out to lunch with his family. The woman had ranted and raved about new quarter earnings and how they needed to have a meeting right away and how dare Oliver not be there.

Felicity had spent the next thirty minutes compiling reports for the meeting as Isabel tried to call Oliver to let him know they needed to meet, assuring Felicity with a lurid smile that he would answer her call.

He didn't and Felicity couldn't stop the uptick of her lips.

By the time she was making her way to the executive elevator, her coat thrown over her arm, she was questioning her decision to try to keep her appointment.

But then she'd remembered how her roots were getting too long and she'd had to cancel the last four appointments because of work related emergencies and this time Oliver had made sure she could go after she went off on him one night when he happened to mention her hair looking different.

Reassuring herself Isabel was just over reacting - she'd looked at the earnings and they were fine by her estimates - she concluded she would go, despite being late.

She had a note in her hand that she planned to hand to Diggle or the security guard at the desk below if she didn't see Oliver.

Just as she reached the elevator, the doors dinged open and Oliver walked out.

His face lightened when he saw her, but one glance at his watch and he frowned.

"Felicity, I thought…" he began, but she didn't give him a chance to finish.

Without a second thought, she lifted her hand with the blue post-it note in it and pressed it over his mouth.

Her fingers ghosted across the corners of his lips and his warm breath puffed along the palm of her hand causing her already accelerated heart-rate to speed up. Her stomach flipped in her chest when her eyes caught his for the briefest of seconds and she swore she wasn't the only one affected by her accidental touch to his lips.

"I know," she said before she could say something else or let her emotions get the better of her. "I'm late, and I don't have time to explain. Read the note."

With that, she stepped around him and right into a wide-eyed Thea and Mrs. Queen, looking at the pair with varied expressions.

Felicity felt her face flush and she gulped, slamming her eyes shut momentarily before shaking her head.

"Of course, Mrs. Queen, Thea," she greeted, trying to put her professional mask back in place. "It's lovely to see you. I'm sure this looks...less than professional, as I'm sure Ms. Rochev will comment on as soon as you step into the office but I'm late and yeah…have a good afternoon."

With that, she didn't even dare throwing a look back in Oliver's direction before racing for the elevator doors that Diggle held open for her.

Once they were both inside and the car had begun moving down the floors, Felicity felt herself slump against the back wall.

She heard a noise and looked up to see Diggle's shoulders shaking.

"Digg...you're not helping," she muttered causing her friend to turn and regard her with a twinkle of mirth in his eyes.

"Sorry. Just Oliver with a post-it note over his mouth is one of the best things I've seen in weeks," he chuckled and Felicity burst into laughter, nervous energy and stress bubbling over all at once.

She managed to get herself together by the time the doors slid open to the lobby and smiled as Diggle escorted her all the way to her car.

"You better get back up there. I left Ms. Rochev in his office so he now has both her and his mom in one place, not too mention his sister to add to the commentary. Almost makes me want to cancel my appointment again…" Felicity said with a small smile.

Diggle grunted with another smile and she slid into the front seat of her car. As she drove away, she realized her fingers still tingled from where they brushed against Oliver's lips.

When she returned from her hair appointment, she felt much better and was surprised to find Oliver alone in his office, seated at his desk and looking over the files that were in front of him.

As she sat down, she noticed the two post-it's stuck to her keyboard.

The first one was the one she'd wrote for him.

_Isabel's on a rampage in your office. Everything you need is on the tablet on my desk. Be back as soon as I can. P.S. - The numbers are fine...don't let her tell you otherwise. You'll see what I mean._

The second one was in his blocky handwriting.

_Thanks for the warning. Managed to keep things in one piece. P.S. - That's the first time someone has ever cut me off with a post-it note._

Her cheeks burned, and she felt his eyes on her when she looked up. He was staring at her, blue eyes boring into her even through the glass and feet that separated them.

A small smile flashed over his features and she returned it as she pocketed both notes, planning on putting them with the others in the nightstand by her bed.

* * *

6.

He was standing before her, shoulders taut, chest expanding with each great inhale as he fought for control of his emotions. His eyes still held that wild look that came with the adrenaline rush of the mission they'd just finished.

She watched, standing next to her chair after Digg had finished looking at the flesh wound on her upper arm - the graze of a bullet that she'd dodged just in time - as Oliver tripped over his words.

The muscle in his jaw worked and he gritted his teeth.

The Foundry now empty save for the two of them crackled with electricity and a tension that had been building for years. Felicity had every moment catalogued in her mind, every touch, every look, every word they'd spoken to each other were all stored up deep inside her heart.

They'd been at the precipice for so long - waiting to see what or who would take that final leap of faith.

She'd known all along it would have to be him. He had so many demons, so many issues from his past that he had to reconcile before he let himself accept that what they had between them wasn't just friendship - it was more. So much more.

He opened his mouth to speak before shutting it again, and still Felicity waited, her hands balled into fists at her side, heart thrumming in her chest with anticipation and hope.

It was so close she could almost touch it; though if she let herself reach out, she'd be able to feel it just beneath her fingertips.

But she kept her hands firmly to herself as much as she ached to erase the distance and wipe away the worry and concern from his face; the anguish currently residing in his eyes at seeing her hurt once more.

Only this time, she'd provided the needed distraction to allow Oliver, Roy, Digg and Lance to circle around and apprehend the target. As they attacked, she'd disabled his remote control to the bomb he'd placed in the public square, but they hadn't counted on the gun he'd had hidden in a holster underneath his jacket or that he would aim it at her instead of the four other men circling him.

It wasn't the first time she'd been hurt and it probably wouldn't be the last, but with the feelings between them growing, the tension at an all time high, this seemed to put Oliver at his breaking point.

He'd held her hand while Digg had patched her up, his silence a heavy presence between them, and after Digg had made a quick exit.

When he opened his mouth for the third time, Felicity held his gaze, her eyes pleading, imploring him to break this impasse they seemed to be at. Without words, she told him the things she'd already said to him; things they both knew deep in their hearts.

Finally, his words cut through the air, his voice so low and yet so broken and desperate that she physically ached.

"I can't lose you."

"I'm right here," she replied softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

His eyes fluttered closed and she watched as the muscles in his face shifted, brows drawing together while he tried to rein in his emotions.

But Felicity had had enough of the things left unspoken.

Doing the only thing she could think of that might get him to listen, she grabbed the pink post-its from behind her on the desk.

Wincing as the muscles on her injured arm flexed, she wrote a simple message. Three words in her familiar scrawl. And then she faced him again to see he still hadn't opened his eyes.

With a deep breath, she moved forward, closing the distance between them. The moment she moved forward, his eyes had snapped open, tracking her every move. The heat in them was overwhelming and she could feel the tension and electricity around them crackle the closer she got to him.

Invading his space, she set her jaw and pressed the note over his heart as she lifted up on her tiptoes to brush a kiss to the underside of his jaw. Her fingers dug into the edge of his jacket, bracing herself against his bicep. The muscles clenched beneath her fingers, his whole body taut, muscles coiled and straining against the war raging between his heart and his mind.

She not only heard, but felt his ragged inhale before she made herself move, slipping past him and taking steps away from him on shaky legs.

Two steps. That's as far as she got before his hand found her uninjured arm and she found herself hauled back into him. She barely had the chance to take a breath before his lips slanted over hers and she finally tasted him for the first time.

A soft mewling noise left her throat as she pressed up on her tip toes again, the feeling of his thick arm banding about her waist and pulling her up and into him causing what little breath she had left to leave her. His other hand delved into her hair; his hands soft as his mouth plundered hers.

Her fingers scrabbled for purchase on his shoulders and one slid up and into his hair, playing with the soft strands at the nape of his neck, causing him to growl in approval to her ministrations. The sound sent a bolt of heat straight to her core and she pressed herself further into him as his tongue ran along the seam of her lips. She gasped and he deepened the kiss as she moaned in pleasure as their tongues tangled together.

When she had to pull away for much needed air, he didn't stop kissing her. His lips trailed over her cheek to her temple and down the other side of her face before finding her jaw and then that special spot just below her ear that had her canting her body into his on a strangled gasp.

He slowed down his ministrations, his mouth lingering over hers, her cheeks, her hairline, her eyelids.

As her forehead fell against his chest, both of them clinging to each other as if they'd finally found their oasis in the desert, her eyes landed on their feet - his heavy boots next to her colorful flats and the bright pink post-it note that lay in between them - three words finally bringing them together.

_Just kiss me._

* * *

7.

He can't help watching her when she sleeps. Her head pillowed next to his, soft spun golden curls draped over his arm that she is curled into, his other arm thrown over her waist, soft porcelain skin so smooth beneath his fingers.

His eyes trail over her face; the gentle curve of her brow, the small freckles on her nose, her full lips parted in a soft smile, the slope of her jaw and back to her ears - the industrial piercing peaking out through golden strands. The arrow she'd started wearing in it making him smile because he knew she did it for him; a soft reminder of her loyalty and her nightly activities - with him.

As he gazed at her, he couldn't help but be reminded of how long he'd denied this - his love for her. How long he'd pushed her away and hidden his feelings behind walls and masks and his past. He told himself he was protecting her. From his darkness, from his past, from the man he thought he was beneath it all - the one who ruined everything he touched.

But she'd always seen past all the dark clouds that surrounded his heart and into the small corner that had somehow managed to survive the island and still be capable of love and trust and hope. She'd found that corner; seen it from the first meeting and never let it go. She'd dug through his walls, the barriers he constantly put up to protect everyone else as well as himself. But no matter how many he put up, she tore them down with no more than a simple smile or a gentle touch; a look of trust or her voice whispering his name.

She'd become his rock in the middle of everything. He couldn't be the Arrow without her there to guide him, talk him through his dark times and call him on his crap. To be there at the end of the night when everything was said and done and welcome him back with open arms and a smile regardless of the outcome of the mission. She was, for all intents and purposes, the heart of the team. His heart.

The words rolled around inside him, crawling up his throat from his chest, aching to be said. But everytime he almost said them, they'd get stuck on that last stuttering breath. He ached to tell her - wanted her to know despite the fact that her eyes told him that she already knew; she understood.

It wasn't enough. And yet, he couldn't get the words out. Not because he didn't want to say them. But because so much bad had happened that he was still afraid to completely accept the good, afraid it would vanish into thin air once he completely acknowledged it out loud.

He would say it. He knew that. He would speak those three words to her.

But for now, while he still worked past those last few walls, he needed to tell her another way.

Moving his hand from her waist to her cheek, he traced the soft slope of her jaw, tangling his fingers in her hair.

His eyes landed on her bedside table and a smile tugged at his lips when he saw the inconspicuous yellow post-it notepad on her nightstand next to her glasses. He knew it was for those moments when she woke up in the middle of the night, a string of code in her head that she had to get down or a item for her grocery list. Half-asleep, he'd seen her roll over, pick up the pen and scribble down the words "green nail polish" and then tuck herself back against his chest and fall back asleep.

It was perfect really. The solution for now - to express himself as she'd taken to doing with him over the past six months. He wasn't sure how the post-it notes had become a thing between them, but he couldn't deny enjoying the sight of her handwriting scrawled on the small pieces of paper. Sometimes they'd been in the heat of the moment, and others were just small messages of comfort and reassurance.

Careful not to disturb her, he reached his long arm over her and grabbed the pen and pad.

Three words. Writing them was easier than he thought, and yet it was the first time he'd possibly ever written them and truly meant them. And he did. With all his heart.

Plucking the note from the others, he placed the pen and pad back on the nightstand and then gently smoothed the sticky side over her forehead.

The sight of his blocky writing next to her skin filled him with a deep primal feeling that surprised him.

His hand returned to her waist, tugging her closer and she compiled, her body fitting against his perfectly as her breath tickled his collarbone. With a smile, he pressed his lips to her forehead over the note and then fell asleep, content in her arms.

Oliver woke to the pale morning light flickering through the blinds in her bedroom. Opening his eyes, he found a smiling Felicity grinning down at him, her forearms braced on his chest, tousled blond hair framing her face as she gazed at him with such emotion, he felt his chest tighten and swallowed past the lump in his throat.

In her fingers, she held the note he'd left on her forehead - those three words written from his heart.

Reaching one hand up, she let it slide through his hair, around his ear and then back to his jaw where she scrubbed her fingers along his stubble before tracing his lips.

He released a long breath, and she moved with the rise and fall of his chest as she kept her eyes locked on his.

The happiness shining in her eyes knew no bounds and she regarded him with such reverence, such adoration that part of him still and probably never would think he truly deserved. But she didn't care - he knew that. She'd told him numerous times. According to her, he deserved all the love in the world.

Her hair fell around his face as she leaned down, eyes sparkling, as their lips met in a soft, yearning kiss that he felt all through his body. The hand that rested against her back, tightened and pressed her closer to him as she slowly tangled her tongue with his, stroking it until he sighed.

When she bit down on his bottom lip, he decided it was time to turn the tables and in one fluid move, he'd flipped them, so she was pressed beneath him, her eyes widening as the surprised laugh flowed from her lips.

Her fingers pressed against his chest and he glanced down to find the post-it note he'd written on the night before beneath her fingers just over his heart.

With a small smile, her pointer finger gently traced the words, spelling out those three words over his heart, and his heart ached and then fluttered in his chest, filling with more love than he knew he could feel.

With her in his arms, those three words pressed between them, he kissed her again.


End file.
